


My Own Kind of Paradise

by Arision



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, For Ben-So-Low, Leia is highly put upon, M/M, Merry Kylux Christmas, She's not sure she likes being an in-law to hux, having to solve problems by TALKING, like at all, lots of therapy and making things better basically, nobody has that fucking skill here, paradise fic, unrepentant boys on love, whats with the children, who are these people?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arision/pseuds/Arision
Summary: Prompt for Kylux Christmas: “Leia and her entourage end up on some far away planet and they encounter Hux and Kylo, who live together and are very happy after abandoning the First Order.”  Hijinks ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ben-So-Low](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ben-So-Low).



This is a gift for my recipient in the merry Kylux Christmas exchange, [Ben-So-Low](http://ben-so-low.tumblr.com/), who asked for Leia finding happy married boys on a random planet....and I RAN with it.  This was SO MUCH FUN to write.  Hopefully you like it, Mona!!  It's a little early, but that's because I'm not going to be around a computer much for the next several days.

Also, a huge thank you to [Oforlikealune](http://oforlikelalune.tumblr.com/) for her awesome beta skills, as always.  You're marvelous, darling.  -blows kisses-

P.S. There's new stuff for the Spoiled Prince series I have coming out, but it's the holidays, yo.  I'll get there!

* * *

“General, my apologies.”

 

Leia looks up from her datapad, screen covered in files about Dakshee, an Outer Rim colony she and her attachment were visiting as a way to drum up support, both physical and financial.  Five years after the disappearance of Kylo Ren and General Hux of the First Order, the war has...stagnated.  If the Resistance wants to beat Snoke and his army of stormtroopers, they're going to need resources still sorely needed after the destruction of Hosnian Prime.

 

In the entryway to what she likes to think of as her ‘study’ on board the cruiser, a deck hand waits.  His slightly larger than expected eyes mark him as Keshian.  Not Iolo, who was flying escort.  A cousin, perhaps, if the resemblance is anything to go by.  

 

“Ma’am, there’s been a malfunction in the hyperdrive module.  We’re landing for repairs on a world called Manari.”

 

Ah.  That explained the sudden slowing feeling she’s felt.  She’d simply thought they had reached their destination faster than anticipated.  But something niggles in the back of her brain.  That sense, her right by birth and blood, that not all is proper in the world around her.  She searches her files for anything related to Manari.

 

What comes up is aggravatingly scarce.  She glances at the crew member.

 

“Does Luke suspect sabotage?”

 

The young Keshian salutes.

 

“Ma’am, the commander seemed fairly calm, if a little confused.  We double-checked the ship before take-off.  He’s commed Commander Dameron, and both agree that nothing seems out of the ordinary.  They felt Manari was also the safest destination.”

 

She’s scanning the short files as he’s talking, and her eyes snag on one key bit of information as he mentions choosing Manari as safest.  

 

“I wonder why.” she remarks dryly.

 

It’s a resort planet.

* * *

The landing is remarkably orderly, all things considered.  When Leia and her entourage disembark to speak to a mechanic about repairs, there is already an attache of some sort waiting for them.

 

The main species of this planet are remarkable.  Humanoid in shape, their skin is a lovely iridescent blue.  Their limbs are much longer and thinner than humans, and thus the shortest mature adult stands at more than six feet.  Their eyes are pearlescent, without distinguishable irises or pupils, and the lids close vertically rather than horizontally.

 

Leia thinks them quite beautiful, these Preadeans.

 

They are also a peace-loving race, the attache explains as she (Leia doesn’t know if their gender designations are similar. She’s guessing.) walks with them through an open air marketplace.  Due to their rather pacifistic nature as a species, invading armies had made the planet a war-torn and desolate place up until a few years ago.  With the help of some nebulous ‘contractors’, the world had been made safe, and the booming tourist trade allowed enough financial power for the Preadean conglomerate to pass certain...measures...that would keep it that way.

 

“It is this measure,” the attache, whose name is a humanly-unpronounceable series of clicks and whistles (She told Leia to simply call her Ga-na), explains in lilting Galactic Standard, “-that brings me to speak with you now.  All visitors to the planet must abide by a code of conduct while they are here, or leave the planet immediately.”

 

“How do you enforce that, if you’re pacifists?”, Rey asks from her position just behind Leia’s right shoulder.  While Leia privately agrees with the girl, she wishes she’d keep her mouth shut on possibly insulting questions.

 

Ga-na smiles slowly, haltingly, as if the musculature of her species does not support such a movement, but she is trying to make her guests feel welcome.  It comes across as more of a grimace.

 

“There is an instated security force for the planet, made of such individuals as feel less peaceful than their brethren.  We have also retained the services of the aforementioned contractors.  In return for certain...considerations...they oversee all security training and defense protocols.”

 

“That’s an awful lot of trust to put in what’s probably a pack of cutthroat mercenaries.” Leia hears Poe murmur.  Probably to Finn.  Leia isn’t sure how good Preadean hearing is.  If Ga-na notices the whispering, she gives no sign.  In fact, she’s still talking.  

 

“-as I was saying, this measure is very simple.  Physical violence of any kind is non-permissible.  Only peacekeepers are exempt, and even then for very specific instances.  While yelling and other loud noises are allowed, they are frowned upon, and disturbing the peace can result in a fine.  All we ask is that while you are a guest here, you abide by these measures.”

 

She glances at Leia, then the trailing party members behind her.  The maroon protrusions on top of her head glint in the light of twin suns.

 

“I trust these terms are acceptable, General Leia Organa?”

 

“Of course.  The Resistance much prefers peaceful solutions in all we do.  Our stay on Manari will be no different.”

 

Chewie gives a little roaring grunt, and she bites her lip.  The translation does not belong in polite company.  She glares at him now, the very specific look she saved for when Han had screwed up and if he didn't follow what she said to the letter, she was leaving him to his fate.

 

Thankfully, the look worked on Wookies as well as men.

 

It might also have had to do with Rey and Luke both putting arms around the him, murmuring something she hoped was placating.  Leia glances back at Ga-na, who stands amid the bustle of the marketplace ebb and flow with an aura of utter serenity.  She gives the impression of being able to out-wait a mountain’s erosion.

 

“Of course we will abide by your laws.” Leia repeats with a little nod for punctuation.  Ga-na gives that slightly terrifying assimilation of smile again, motioning gracefully with one long limb.

 

“Very good, General.  Please, come with me.  I will show you to your lodgings.”

 

Leia follows after her, silently praying to the Force that they make it through one night without causing trouble.  

 

She should have known better.

 

Poe at this moment, trying to slide in close to Rey and Finn, bumps into a stranger in the market place.  He turns immediately, claps the person on the back.

 

“Oh, my bad, buddy!  Sorry!”

 

“Oh, no, no problem.”

 

Leia freezes, then whirls.  She knows that voice.  Her entourage turns as she does.

 

The figure straightens, showing height and broad shoulders she _knows_ , even without having seen them for more years than she wants to think about.  Those shoulders turn, and Kylo Ren’s dark eyes blink at them from under the brim of a floppy hat.  Horror dawns in her heart as it mirrors across his face.

 

Her son.

 

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.  His eyes flick from one person to the next, and Leia realizes that her entire group of companions consists of individuals who have some grudge against him, herself included.

 

“Uh...hey…?”

 

Chewie gives a roar, actually _leaps_ for him, only to fly backward as Kylo Ren pushes out with the force with one hand.  A stall is knocked over, and both the vendor and their patrons begin to shriek in a language Leia doesn’t know.  As one, her companions reach for their weapons, Poe even getting his blaster out if his holster and pointing it at Ren.  Ren in turn drops the basket he’s holding with his other arm, and with a gesture, she finds herself locked in a force hold.  Rage burns through her.  

 

How dare he!

 

She begins to struggle and push with her own connection to the Force, feeling Luke and Rey doing the same. Violence seems like a wonderful answer, now.  Chewbacca comes roaring back at Ren, who seizes him in a hold as well.  Through her anger, she notices sweat beading at his temples.  If she wasn’t so furious, she’d be proud of this demonstration of power and control.

 

But she’s not.  She can feel his hold on her loosen, just a little.  Power re-routes to more firmly hold Luke and Rey.  Her fingers twitch toward her own blaster.  A shot to the knee should distract him enough.  She reaches for it.

 

But then there are armored Preadeans pouring into the market now, surrounding them on all sides, and she hears, distantly, the accented voice of Ga-na.

 

“General!  General, please, control yourself.   _Violence is not permitted here, in any way_!”

 

That’s right.

 

Leia seizes her temper, and using every trick she knows, shoves it down where it no longer controls her.  As if sensing this, her son’s force power immediately releases her, although no one else in the retinue is.  He glances at her with those dark eyes.

 

“Well...this is fun.”

 

She ignores him.  Turning, she moves where Luke and Rey can see her, standing between them and Kylo Ren.

 

“Enough.  We need those repairs.  Stop it, both of you.”

 

Then she walks toward Chewbacca, who Ren is holding slightly off the ground.  

 

“Chewie.  Chewie, enough.  You’re embarrassing the Resistance.”

 

This is said loud enough that Poe and Finn can hear as well.  While Chewie doesn't particularly care about the Resistance’s image, he hates to cause her trouble.  It is this she’s counting on.  

 

Instantly, he’s quieter, making little moaning noises in apology.  Without prompting, he’s lowered to his feet, and then released.  He staggers a little against Leia, who steadies him.  When no more scuffles break out behind her, she steps back, and rotates to put the rest of her party into view. They are dusting themselves off, reholstering weapons.

 

She finds Kylo Ren (she wants to think of him as Ben, but she can’t, _she_ _can’t_.  That scarred man looks nothing like her sweet little boy) speaking quietly with that are obviously peacekeeping officers and Ga-na. They aren’t cowering from this man who could kill them with a thought.  Instead, there seems to be...respect, and even a sense of camaraderie. This gives her pause.  Gives all of them pause.

 

After a few moments discussion, where passers-by stare at them all wide-eyed, he claps one of them on the shoulder in a friendly fashion.

 

Many officers turn and trickle off into the crowd in pairs, while a few help the vendor right their stall, soothing passers-by.  Ga-na and Kylo Ren approach them.   He pauses halfway and picks up the basket he dropped, putting a few items of produce back in that had rolled out during the scuffle.  Accordingly, Ga-na reaches them first.

 

“General, I admit...disappointment...that your companion would break our rules so swiftly.”

 

“I-”

 

“It’s alright, Ga-na.  There was no actual violence, although it came close.”

 

Ren joins them, smiling slightly.  Rey reaches for her staff, and he flicks his eyes toward her. His smile smoothes flat.   Nothing is said, but the tension rolls off them in waves.  Rey’s hand moves back to her side.

 

Ga-na seems to flutter, now.  She is obviously unsure of what to do, in the face of such violent individuals.  Leia sees Ren note it as the same time she does.  He touches the Preadean gently on the arm.  Catching her attention.

 

“I’ll take responsibility of them now, Ga-na.  Thank you for your service.”

 

Leia actually wants to shriek.  To demand how he thinks he can command anyone, much less a governmental attache.  But Ga-na only angles herself toward him a little, bows, and then walks into the crowded market without a word or backward glance.

 

What?

 

What??

 

Leia wonders if she died, and this is some strange twilight land where only the absurd occurs.  Luke crosses his arms over his chest.  Leia can see the fingers of one hand twitch, knows he’s thinking about going for his lightsaber and damn the consequences.  Poe and Finn are fingering their blasters.

 

“So, marching us off to a quiet death, _Ben_?”

 

There is a flash of temper, there and gone, in Kylo Ren’s face.  The tension escalates.  Then he gives a lopsided smile that actually hurts her.  That’s Han’s smile, every inch.  He points to the right.

 

“Hotel’s that way, not that you’re going to have much luck.”

 

Then he turns, and saunters back into the market, vanishing among the crowd.

* * *

“What do you mean, you don’t have any rooms?”

 

Leia can hear the rage and the frustration in Poe’s voice from across the foyer, especially since crowds on this ridiculous planet have the annoying tendency to go silent around any voice raised in anger.  How the mob could tell the difference between anger and joy was beyond her, since she doubted every _single kriffing busybody_ in this place could possibly be force sensitive enough for that.

 

She glances over at him, nearly vibrating where he and Finn stand talking to the hotel concierge.  This Preadean seems utterly unrepentant even as they tell Poe that, terribly sorry, but all the rooms have been booked.

 

As have every hotel in the area.

 

When it looks like he might actually resort to violence, Leia ushers her group outside.  She’s wondering how she suddenly became the shepherd when she notices a figure in black leaning against the wall of the building opposite the hotel.  Chewie sees him at the same time, and growls.

 

Kylo Ren seems unphased.  He meets Leia’s gaze.

 

“They won’t rent to you now.”

 

“Oh, do you read their minds, too?” Poe snarls.  Kylo Ren actually looks...ashamed?  Leia thinks that’s the correct look.  Those big shoulders give a careless shrug.

 

“Don’t need to.  It’s the culture here.  You’ve shown a tendency toward violent behavior.  No one wants that in their establishment.”

 

Another shrug, nods to a few locals who call out to him as they walk past.  No one seems afraid of him, although several individuals give them the side-eye.  Leia can almost feel Rey’s desire to snarl.  The Resistance certainly isn’t making any friends here.

 

“Then we sleep on our ship.  I assume the rule of violence binds you as well.”

 

A long, slow, sharp smirk.  The floppy brimmed hat he’s wearing should look ridiculous, but somehow it doesn't.

 

“Don’t worry, scavenger.  I’m not going to creep in and slit your throat while you're sleeping.”

 

“It’s certainly your style.”

 

He shrugs, straightens.  Leans down to pick up the basket at his feet.  His lack of response seems to throw Rey for a loop, because she doesn’t have a return comment ready.  Leia is getting tired of silence, and having to look Han’s murderer in the face, so she prepares to move them all back to the ship.  It’s not designed to sleep more than the minimal crew, but somehow they’ll make it work.  Maybe Poe and Iolo can sleep in their respective fighter cockpits...

 

She turns, and Kylo Ren moves toward her.  

 

Hands all around immediately go to weapons.  His eyebrows raise, but he keeps focused on her.

 

“Was there something you wanted?” she asks blandly, like she would give him _anything_.

 

That same Han smile that cuts her every time.

 

“I was going to invite you to dinner if you can wait until I’ve finished the shopping.”

* * *

They follow him through the market and out of the city.

 

Fifteen minutes of tense, silent walking see Leia standing outside a multi-storied dwelling on the outskirts of town.  It’s made of a hollowed out tree native to the planet.  The species is huge, easily the size of a more conventional dwelling.  The honey colored filaments that equate to leaves in her mind cast dappled shadows against the deep red trunk. A balcony is nestled into branches on the highest story, and a covered porch wraps around three quarters of the dwelling’s bottom.

 

There’s a swing sized for two or three humans near what she thinks may be the front door, with a fat ginger cat lying on it in a pool of sunlight.  Kylo gives it a stroke as he goes by.

 

“Hey, Millie.”

 

The response is a lazy mew, and one eye half-opened to take in the rest of the party trooping after him.  

 

Inside, the residence is open and spacious, with windows bored through the bark in several places, shutters thrown open to let in the light and air. Gauzy curtains designed to give privacy flutter in a slight breeze. The furnishings look lived in, but have an elegant design that blends together as a whole.  

 

Overall, there is a sense of style and refinement Leia instinctively knows did not come from her son.  She hears the sounds of ceramic clinking, and the slosh of water from another room.  

 

So.  

 

Her son found a partner, and clearly the decorating is to their taste.  She stops, moving in a slow circle to take in the whole room.

 

Books fill shelves along the walls, punctuated with clever knick-knacks and figurines.  In one, there are what looks like the creations of children.  Bits of flotsam and clutter that have no value, other than the smile or laugh it came with, such were gifts from a tiny hand.  She feels ice clutch in her chest.

 

No.. surely not…?

 

That icy grip gets worse when Kylo stops in the middle of the room, standing on an elegant rug with geometric designs, and calls out, “Love?”

 

The sound of washing suddenly stops.  There is a loud, long suffering sigh.  Footsteps coming closer, the padding of bare feet on wood.

 

“What have you done _now_?”

 

The accent is Imperial.  Male.

 

And terrifyingly familiar.

 

Oh no.   _Nonononononononnoo_ -

 

Armitage Hux, former general of the First Order and architect of Starkiller Base, steps into an open doorway to the left.  His face freezes when he sees them, skin turning ashen under a new tan.  Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees Kylo Ren scrub the base of his neck with one hand.

 

“So...my mother’s here.”

 

The cup the general is holding in one hand slips from limp fingers and shatters against the ground.  Leia has never identified so strongly with a piece of kitchenware.  

 

What she’s not expecting is her son to leap across the distance to General Hux, lifting the broken shards with the Force.  She watches, feeling a little like the world has turned sideways on her, as he glances around at their feet to be sure he got everything.  Then he encircles the general’s waist with one long arm and pulls him to his side.

 

A gesture sends the shards into the room beyond the doorway.  From the sound, Kylo had dropped the pieces in a waste bin.  The general makes a disgusted noise into Kylo’s neck.

 

“That is what we have a broom for, Kylo.”

 

“I don’t need the broom.”

 

She can hear the pleased smirk in Ren’s voice, even with his back to her.  Another moment of pain.  He sounds just like Han, when she’d scolded him for something foolish.  Hux is smirking a little himself, gazing up at her son without fear.  Then those blue eyes dart to her, and everything gets tense again.  She wonders vaguely how much more of this her heart can take before it just gives out.

 

Finn is reaching for his blaster again, and she feels a moment of panic.  She won’t be able to stop him in time-!

 

There is the sound of shouting, and the thumps of little feet across the floor.  The front door bursts open, framing three Preadean children against the light.  Two are fairly grown, probably the equivalent of a human teenager.  The third is no more than a toddler, held in an older sibling’s arms.  Like all children everywhere, they seem oblivious to the tension and possible conflict.  Instead, the two eldest are chattering over one-another.

 

“Solo!  Solo!  Our parents have work at the resort tonight.  Can we stay here?”

 

“Mamman and Pappan said it was okay if it was okay with you!  Say yes, pleeeeease?”

 

The absurdity of the situation is blinding.  She and her people look between Kylo Ren and General Hux, the two most feared killers in the galaxy, and three children who clearly want to be in their home.  Kylo is turning red, the color painting it’s way across his cheekbones under the weight of so many incredulous stares.  He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand.  Clears his throat.  Hux’s face is hidden against Ren’s shoulder, although his own are shaking.

 

“Uh, yeah.  T-that’s fine.  My... _family’s_...come to visit, too.”

 

He says it like he thinks he’s going mad.

 

Something bubbles in Leia’s stomach.  Flutters in her throat and along the edges of her mouth.  For a moment, it _does_ feel like madness.  

 

The three children swarm them, weaving in and out to tug on hands and clothes and in Chewie’s case, fur.  There are a million questions: _Where did you come from? How long are you staying? Is that a blaster? What are your names? Mr. Solo, how come you’re not harrier, if your dad’s a wookie?_

Leia starts laughing.  With wobbly steps, she gets over to a chair, and then flops in it, sides heaving and tears running down her cheeks.  It takes several minutes for her to stop, still gasping for breath and breaking out into another chuckle every few moments.  No one else seems to be as amused as she is, which is a pity.

 

Kylo Ren and the general have disappeared into the other room.

 

When she’s calmer, the three children tow them all upstairs.  Seemingly, they know where the guest bedrooms are.  Amid a long whirlwind of questions that is beginning to get rather taxing, frankly, their things are settled and beds are made up.  When the three are distracted for a moment with Chewie and Poe, she sneaks nimbly back down the stairs.

 

A walk will do her some good.  That’s what she needs.

 

A hushed voice, laced with panic, stops her.  It’s coming from what must be the kitchen, based on the smells and sounds currently coming out of it.  The frightened voice is Ren’s.

 

“Kriff, Hux, what are they _doing_ here?!  What are we going to _do_?!”

 

Something metallic clinks. Liquid sloshes.

 

“You brought them here.  Why would you do that if you are this upset about it?”

 

“I couldn’t let them disappear.  Let them comm out for reinforcements.  Kriff.  Kriff, kriff, _kriff-_ ”

 

She gets her back to the wall, cranes her neck to hear better.  He sounds close to tears.  There is the sound of dishes being put down, steps moving across the floor.  The shushing of cloth sliding against cloth.

 

“Kylo, hey, it is okay.  Hush.  Hush.”

 

“Don’t tell me to hush.  The Resistance will be demanding our heads within a standard _week_.  If not sooner.  We’ll have to run again-”

 

There’s a snort, then a laugh.

 

“What are you _laughing_ about?!”

 

“Kylo, darling idiot, I wish them the best of luck.”

 

“What?”

 

Another Imperial accented chuckle.

 

“Your mother may scream until she is blue in the face, but the fact of the matter is that you and I have turned this little backwater rock from a grudging stop on the slave circuits into a cozy getaway for only the richest and most reclusive of individuals.  The amount of credits we have brought the Preadeans means there is no way the Resistance has either the manpower or the resources to demand _anything_.  Much less us.”

 

Leia makes a disgusted face.  He’s right, unfortunately.  From what she’d seen just walking through the marketplace, there was no way the Resistance could bring justice to bear here.  Especially not if they were indeed responsible for this new prosperity.  

 

Doesn’t mean she has to like him pointing it out.

 

There’s a sniffle.

 

“You’re really not worried?”

 

“No.  And neither should you be.”

 

“Okay.  I trust you.”

 

“Please do.  I _am_ the one with all the brains, after all.”

 

“Oh, fuck you.”

 

Kylo is laughing now.

 

“Not with your mother under the same roof, you are not.”

 

Leia is grateful that Kylo makes some sort of noise to cover the one she makes.  Dark and twisted he might be, but Kylo Ren was _still_ her son, and no mother needs that kind of image in her head.  Then come the sounds of sighs, and a particular slide of skin on skin that can only mean kissing.  Not willing to risk whatever awkwardness would result from interrupting, she turns and marches as quietly as she can back up the stairs.  Surely even three overactive children are better than listening to her son smootch a genocidal maniac!

* * *

Dinner is...probably the weirdest meal Leia has ever experienced.  They eat outside, since the kitchen isn’t big enough to accommodate seven humans, three hyper-active Preadeans juveniles, and a Wookie. Apparently this is a common enough gathering that Ren and Hux have a permanent table setting.

 

Even stranger is that the food is actually...good.  Leia’s never seen green and blue striped tubers quite like the ones on her plate, and certainly everyone around the table suspects poison.  The general notices the reticence, and smirking, samples a little of everything from the communal plates without comment.  Then, and only then, does everyone else serve themselves.

 

The three children, whose names are collectively, Yll, Adran, and Bim, eat with the gusto singular to youth.  In between bites, they chatter incessantly in both their native language of Preadean which consists of clicks and whistles, and Galactic Standard. While neither Ren nor Hux respond in Preadean, they seem to understand it, because their answers are as swift as if they were speaking Standard or Imperial.

 

“No, Adran, I do _not_ think Wookie hair would taste good.”

 

“Yll, if you’re going to choke your birth partner, make sure you do it where I won’t see you.  I don’t care if he’s being an irritating kilp-grubber.”

 

“Bim, darling, napkin.”

 

“Eat your bilser roots before desert, both of you.”

 

Throughout these discussions, and indeed the whole meal, they sit side by side, hands intertwined on the table in full view of everyone.  Leia also notices the sheen of metal on the appropriate ring fingers.  Every once in awhile, the general will lean in and murmur something to Ren, who usually grins in response.  Once or twice, those dark eyes dart guiltily in her direction, and she wonders around a sense of faintness if they’re continuing their discussion from the kitchen.  Kylo Ren’s sex life was never something she wanted to know about.  

 

Ever.

 

She busies herself with food.  The fat ginger cat has developed a deep and demanding love for Luke, so watching him trying to eat around patting paws and a lap full of fur entertains everyone.  Leia catches Kylo’s smirk every time the feline meows.

 

Her companions talk amongst themselves, casting wary glances down the other end of the table.  General Hux seems to find the whole thing amusing, like some sort of farce play, which makes her grimace.  He’s not far wrong.

 

“I never thought they were _together_ .  I mean, on Starkiller, there was a rumor, at least according to scuttlebutt, but no one _believed_ it…” Finn murmurs.  The general’s eyes flick up, quietly tracking their conversation.

 

“I knew.” Rey says shortly, face turned down toward her food.  She and Poe seem to be trying desperately not to look at either of the men at the other end of the table.  Leia has already offered to send them back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not willing to make them remain under the roof of their torturers.  They both had refused, not wanting to leave her unprotected.

 

Force save her from well-meaning children.

 

Even Luke glances at Rey, conveying confusion with his heavy brows.  She looks up at all of them, shrugs sharply.  Leia sees Kylo listening now and starting to look slightly nervous.

 

“How could you _possibly_ know that!?” Finn asks, incredulously.

 

“Yes, do tell.” Hux adds.  Rey flicks a glance at him, then at Kylo, who is looking more and more uneasy by the moment.  Leia thinks the girl will refuse.  But then Rey smiles.

 

It’s not friendly.

 

“I’ve known since Starkiller.” she tells Hux, looking him dead in the eye.  Ginger brows rise.

 

“Please, elaborate, if you’d be so kind.  We weren’t together until _after..._ Starkiller.”  The name seems to give him pain.

 

“Uh, you know, Hux, this really isn’t important-”

 

“Hush, Kylo.”

 

“Yeah, hush, Kylo.  The grown-ups are talking.”

 

Ren glares at Rey, who is looking almost demonic at this point.  She is dragging her spoon through what is left of the tubers on her plate.  Hux waits her out patiently.

 

“It was during my interrogation.  He tried getting into my mind, and I got into his instead.  He was thinking about what you looked like naked.”

 

Rey shrugs again, nonchalant.  As if she hasn't a care in the world. The children don't appear to be listening, which Leia thinks is lucky.  No one wants to answer awkward questions right now.

 

Hux, on the other hand, is turning his head to look at a very sweaty Kylo, face carefully blank.  Leia feels her cheeks heat.  This is going far beyond awkward and into discomfort territory.

 

“You don’t say.” Hux says, bland as Imperial cream.

 

“I can explain-”

 

“Why do I suspect that ‘explanation’ consists somewhat along the lines of ‘I could not help myself?’ “

 

Kylo presses his lips together, gazing at Hux like he was looking at the sun after being in the dark for too long.

 

“Because I couldn’t?”

 

Hux rolls his eyes and makes a disgusted sound.  Then leans over and kisses Kylo briefly on the mouth.

 

“Idiot.” he says, turning to separate the roughhousing Preadeans, leaving Ren looking like he would rather they were alone right now.  Leia studiously focuses on her plate.  She misses Han so much in this moment, it’s not fair.

 

It’s as the meal is winding down, with almost everyone sated enough to only pick at their food that the youngest child slips out of her chair, crawls under the table, and then up into Kylo Ren’s lap.  Making a whirring noise, she makes herself comfortable, and in the process, manages to spill whatever is left on his plate over the both of them.

 

Silence.

 

Leia is preparing herself to get the child to safety before Ren can hurt her for the slight.  She feels Rey already moving to her feet.  The sound of laughter stops them both.

 

Letting go of the general, Ren cradles the child in one hand and is attempting to wipe the mess off himself with the other.  The general is clearing things out of the way as if such occurrences are completely common and utterly mundane.  No one yells, no tempers flare.  In fact, the child seems utterly content to be cradled in one big arm, without any fear whatsoever.

 

Leia feels her sense of the galaxy tilt on its axis _again_ , and she sits quickly.  Her cheeks feel warm.  When she glances up again, General Hux is watching her.  When their eyes meet, he gives her what could only be called a rueful grins and shrugs one shoulder.  The movement says: _I know.  Kylo Ren, good with kids.  No one in the galaxy would believe us._

 

She’s not sure _she_ believes it.

 

The general is already turning away, swiping at the mess with a rag, bickering and needling Ren.

 

“What, no mystical powers this time?”

 

“It wasn’t necessary-”

 

“Oh, but making sure _I_ do not tread on glass _is_ necessary?”

 

“Well, _yes-_ ”

 

“I think you are just a slob, Kylo Ren.”

 

“Because I don’t want you to bleed all over the floor?”

 

“All I am hearing is ‘blah blah blah, I am a lazy slob’.”

 

Ren laughs, and with his free hand, seizes Hux around the waist.  To the staring horror of all present, he reels the general in and proceeds to kiss him very deeply indeed.  The two Preadeans still sitting make the typical disgusted noises one expects from juveniles.  Leia catches Luke’s eye, and they exchange a look that blends incredulity with horror.

 

This is not the boy they remember, nor the angry man.  He sounds like Han, he _moves_ like him.  

 

Leia cannot take any more.  Pushing back from the table with force, she’s off down the path to the village before her entourage can do more than call after her.

* * *

Leia has never considered herself a violent person.  In fact, she prefers to think of herself as a diplomat, someone who favors subterfuge and talk to outright fighting. Someone who uses force only as a last resort.

 

As she glares up at the Preadean mechanic, who has just informed her it will take another two standard days to finish repairs, she reconsiders.

 

“I am sorry, madam.  We are a resort planet, and as such, do not often deal with such delicate machinery.  The parts must be brought from another planet.”

 

“It’s a simple hyperdrive coil.  Those are basic parts for lightspeed travel.  How in the galaxy do you not have them in stock?”

 

The Preadean makes a graceful movement in their shoulders.  Leia thinks it is the approximation of a shrug.

 

“Because such problems are rare, truly.  Most often I see compressor malfunctions, or the results of too much _anaxi._ ”

 

“Too much...what?”

 

The being blinks slowly at her.

 

“It is the local...what is the word in Standard...alcol?”

 

“You mean, alcohol?”

 

“Yes.  That is the word.  Too much _anaxi_ , and guests tend to pilot their speeders into...unusual predicaments and collisions.”

 

Leia silently thinks that if the other being can remember the standard words for ‘collision’ and ‘predicaments’, certainly they could remember the word for alcohol.  But it didn’t matter one way or the other, since her ship would not be fixed any faster for improved native vocabulary.  She keeps a grasp on her temper...barely.

 

Thanking the mechanic for their trouble as civilly as she knows how, Leia stalks out of the shop before she does something to get herself kicked off planet.  And wasn’t that just the testament to the level of absurd in her life.  Her patricidal son somehow created and enforced rules of non-violence for an _entire planet_ , while she’s been tempted to violence multiple times in a single day.  Maybe she was dreaming, and when she woke up, she’d be on her ship, still headed for Dakshee, and still blissfully unaware of where Kylo Ren was.

 

She passes through the open air market again, ignoring merchants hawking their wares to her.  There are little twinkle lights strung up everywhere, giving the whole place the look of something out of a fairy tale. All soft and lovely.  A pack of children, assembled of several different races, run past her with shrieks of glee.  The sound of familiar laughter catches her ear.  

 

The crowd parts perfectly as she glances up, showing Rey and Finn at a stand selling some sort of native fruit.  As she watches, Rey feeds Finn a slice, managing to get juice all over him in the process.  There are purple streaks on Rey’s cheeks.  Laughing, Finn leans in to kiss her.  When they pull away, their foreheads stay touching.

 

Leia turns away, partly out of privacy and partly out of longing for a man no longer present in the galaxy.   Now she sees Poe, leaning against a wall and clearly flirting with a hard looking Twi'lek male.  A tiny smile says the pilot’s interest is not unreturned.  Chewie is just past them, examining something at one of the stalls.

 

Again, Leia turns away.  She’s not sure she wants company right now.  

 

She wanders the streets toward Kylo Ren’s home slowly.  She isn’t worried about getting lost.  Force training has some uses, certainly.

 

There is a small part of the path where trees converge overhead, blocking out the light.  Leia pauses in this patch of shadows, steeling herself to bear the presence of Kylo Ren again.  She gets it sooner than expected, because he is sitting out on the swing on the front porch.  General Hux sits in his lap, looking for all the world like an Emperor upon his throne, his arms around Ren’s shoulders.  Ren has his arms around the redhead's waist, and their foreheads touch.  

 

The easy embrace of long time lovers, telling each other secrets in the dark.

 

For a few moments, she stands undetected in the pool of darkness, watching them talk and trade occasional kisses.  They look...happy.  Not just content, but glowing with that immeasurable sense that what you want most in the world is not only right in front of you, but is already yours.

 

She knew what that felt like, once.

 

She steps out of the shadows, walks toward the house as slowly as possible.  Gives them time to notice her.

 

Kylo Ren glances up at her sharply.  The general turns a second later.  He looks between her and Ren for a moment, then whispers something in his husband’s ear.  Dropping a kiss on Ren’s forehead, he rises from his seat and disappears into the house.  Ren stays where he is, watching her climb the steps with a face like a man looking at his executioner.

 

She pauses on the top step, and they look at each other for long moments.  He breaks first, starts to study his feet.

 

She take advantage to really see the man her son has become.  

 

He’s grown into his long limbs, his proud facial features that always looked so awkward in adolescence.  She remembers how self-conscious he used to be, how often he would cry when he was teased about them.  They fit him now, strong and sure.  The scar Rey gave him adds a certain dramatic symmetry, an extra shine of charisma.

 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” she says at last.  Her voice is hoarse, and she fights against a wince.  He looks up with those dark eyes so like hers.  Blinks.

 

“It’s alright.  We...we should...talk…”

 

He sounds unsure and like he’d really rather not.  Leia’s chest constricts.  She’s not sure if she’s ready for this.  If she’ll ever be.  It’s not going to be easy in any sense of the word…

 

But if she wanted easy, she’d be married on some core planet while the Empire still ruled.  Or she’d be dust long scattered with the rest of Alderaan.  She sits down next to him on the porch swing, far enough away that they don’t touch.

 

“We should.” she says into the darkness.  He sighs, runs a hand heavily through his hair.  Then silence.

 

They sit there for some time.  She can hear the children somewhere inside the house, laughing.

 

“Where’s Luke?” she asks suddenly.  She can sense he’s near, but not what he’s doing.  For some reason, this makes Kylo laugh.

 

“Sitting out back with Millicent.”

 

“Who?”

 

“The cat.”

 

“Still?”

 

“I know, right?”

 

“It’s not coming with us.”

 

“Hux would fight you for her.  He’s jealous enough about it as it is.”

 

They grin at each other for a moment, then realize exactly what they’re doing. They turn awkwardly away from each other.  Leia rubs her palms together between her knees.  Words used to come so much easier to her when she was younger.  She was never so...afraid...as she is now.  Of all the things that could go wrong, or of saying the one thing she shouldn’t.

 

Silence envelopes them again.

 

At last, Ren sighs and runs another hand through his hair.

 

“Just say it already.”

 

“What?”

 

“Just tell me I’m a murderer and we can move on.  Hux won’t let me come to bed until we get this over with.”

 

Leia turns this statement over in her mind for a moment.  A tiny part of her approves of Hux suddenly, and she’s horrified.  The larger part is torn between screaming and railing at Han’s murderer and confronting her son.

 

“Leia!” he snaps, admittedly under his breath.  She slants a look at him.

 

“I believe that’s the first time you’ve directly addressed me since we ran into each other.”

 

He has the decency to blush, which she can see even in the dark of the porch.  She feels a little better that apparently he’s still capable of feeling shame.

 

“Sorry.” he murmurs petulantly. Crosses his arms over his chest and shifts.  The swing rocks a little beneath him.  On a whim, she begins to push it back and forth with one foot.  Remembers how she used to do this when he was young.  Maybe a year old.

 

He’d be fussy, unable to sleep, and she would slide into the rocking chair designed by one of the few Alderaanian survivors who hadn't been on planet when the Death Star came calling.  There, she’d rock him back and forth until he quieted, humming gently under her breath.  He must be monitoring her mental feedback (which is terribly rude), because he makes a pained sort of noise and drags his feet to keep the swing from moving.

 

“Please stop.” he says, quiet and sad.  She’s suddenly angry, turning to face him better.

 

“Really?  Really?!  After all you have put me through, you think you have the right to ask me for _anything_?”

 

He doesn’t deny it, just hunches further into his side of the swing.  But Leia’s temper is up now.

 

“For fifteen years, I defend you.  I worry for you.  I beg your father to bring you back to us.  And what do you do?   _You stab him through the chest with a lightsaber._  But you think you can ask me for _anything_?”

 

They’re on their feet now, him still with arms crossed as she shouts and waves her arms for emphasis. Something in what she says seems to break him, because then he’s shouting right back.

 

“I know I’m an idiot!  I know I can never take back what I’ve done!   _I’m sorry!_  I don’t know what else you expect from me!!”

 

Inside the house, the children have stopped whatever noisy thing they were doing, and Leia thinks the neighbors, as far away as they are, have their heads angled toward the windows now.  This place is so bloody ridiculous.  No one could yell or get anything out without twelve people wondering if they need to call the peacekeepers!

 

They’re both breathing hard, glaring at each other, a moment or a wrong move from diving for each other’s throats.  She’s not expecting Kylo to step back, turn away from her and start to pace.  When he speaks again, it’s much quieter.

 

“I _know_ I’ve done wrong.  I know that.  I’m not asking you for forgiveness.  There are some things that can never be forgiven.  But, _please_ , just…”

 

He sits, buries his hands in his hair and stares at the ground.

 

“...don’t remind me of what I’ve lost.   _Please_ .  You’ve every right to be that cruel, but please, _don’t_.”

 

Whatever Leia expected, is wasn’t this.  Not an apology and a confession that sounds close to tears.  Ben was always emotional, far more so than she ever knew how to deal with.  It was why she’d sent him to Luke in the first place.  She had wanted him to learn control, and she hadn't had the time to deal with him herself.

 

Part of her is still so angry.  Hurting on a level that may never heal.  But another part of her, the mother in her, hears her son as she remembers him.  For the first time, she sees her son in this man.  Not his grandfather, not the evil he’d become, not _Han_.  

 

Just...Ben.  Still emotional and sensitive, not matter how old he gets.

 

She slumps next to him on the swing.

 

“I’m sorry, too.”

 

His head swings up so fast she hears the joints pop.  But he’s staring at her, and the faint greenish light of the rising moon catches the whites of his eyes.  She’s certainly startled him.

 

“I-what?”

 

“I said, I’m sorry too.”

 

“But-what-you don’t have anything to be sorry for!  I-”

 

“Ben, we both know I wasn’t the mother to you that I should have been. Nor was Han an exceptional father. If I had been been, maybe…”

 

She sighs.  Maybe what?  He answers for her, fingers picking at an errant thread in his trousers.

 

“Maybe it still would have turned out the same.  Besides, you can’t blame yourself for all the things I’ve done.  You-”  he sighs, seems to fight back a sob, “You didn’t make me pick up the lightsaber.”

 

“No.  I didn’t.  But maybe I could have kept you from being in the position where that was your choice.”

 

They sit in silence for  a while longer.  Eventually, when the sounds of children playing have resumed, and then died out, when the other houses nearby are all dark, when they can hear the sounds of Rey and Finn and Poe and Chewie coming back from town, he stands and moves toward the door.  He stops, the door open, and all she can see in the darkness is that he’s turned toward her.

 

“Mom...I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

He goes inside and shuts the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Breakfast is tense, but less so than the meal the night before.  Kylo cooks, some sort of pancake that is more savory than sweet.  Rey is watching Poe teach the children some sort of clapping game, and the noise of it does not allow for much in the way of conversation.

 

When the meal is over, everyone scatters, leaving Kylo with the dishes.   Finn and Poe take the children for a walk, while Chewie and Rey head back into town to check on repairs.  Luke, much to Leia and Kylo’s surprise, stays to help with the dishes.  Millicent winds around his ankles, purring madly.

 

After making sure that Luke doesn’t have his saber on hand, Leia steps back into the  open space behind the house.  They deserve their privacy for whatever peace they might make in all this.  She’s not expecting to find General Hux outside, wearing the hat Kylo was wearing to market yesterday, sporting gloves, and covered in dirt.

 

He’s working in what is clearly a garden, humming gently under his breath.  As she watches, he pulls some of the tubers they’d had with dinner out of the ground.  Dusting the loose earth off of them, he puts the plant into a basket next to him with a small pile of others.  Then he reaches further into the bed to pull out what she can only assume is a weed.  This, he throws onto a small pile at his other side.

 

There’s a soft breeze blowing, and behind her she can hear the clink of plates being washed, the low hum of male voices conversing. Further away, she can hear children laughing, and then the sound of Poe shouting good naturedly. The sun is warm on her face.  

 

She must make some noise, because Hux looks over his shoulder at her.  There is a smudge of dirt along one cheekbone.  They study each other warily, two enemy generals separated by a law of non-violence.

 

He breaks the silence.

 

“General Organa.”

 

“General Hux.”

 

He laughs, and there is no bitterness in it, which surprises her.

 

“Not anymore.”

 

He goes back to what he is doing, and Leia watches for a time.  She’s beginning to get used to silences with these two, both awkward and not.  She’s also starting to resent that she’s not the bravest person in the room, so to speak.  Getting old and cautious reaks.

 

Eventually, she sits down on one the chairs from last night, which rests a little away from him, although still in his line of sight.  

 

“What are you doing?” she asks.

 

“Not poisoning your dinner.  Don’t worry, general.”

 

“I don’t recall mentioning poison, but thank you for the update.”

 

His head shifts a little, and then he’s turning to look at her with it tilted a little to one side.  His expression is perplexed.

 

“What, did you think Ben got all of his humor from his father?”

 

She’s smiling.  At the Starkiller.  Really, what has become of her life?  Hux tilts his head a little deeper to one side.

 

“You call him Ben?”

 

“That’s his name.”

 

“Not anymore.  I think ‘Ben’ makes him uncomfortable.”

 

He goes back to pulling weeds.

 

“He deserves to be a little uncomfortable these days.” she says tartly.  He glances at her, just a slide of the eyes to the side and then back to the front.  He gives a little hum.

 

“I’m rather shocked to find that I agree with you.”

 

“I find this whole situation shocking.” Leia responds without thinking.  Hux put down his gardening tools and laughs a little.  Turning so that he’s sitting on his backside rather than his knees, he studies her.

 

“How do you think I feel about a surprise visit from my mother-in-law plus extended family?”

 

“How do you think I feel about the Hosnian System?”

 

This is rather more foul that the situation calls for, but it’s out before she can stop herself.  Although...once she says it, she finds she has no desire to take it back.  Hux rolls his jaw, studying her for a moment.  The silence stretches.  At last, he turns back to his knees and returns to his gardening.

 

“Don’t expect an apology from me.  I’m not sorry.”

 

She makes a choking noise.

 

“You killed billions of people with the press of a button.”

 

He shrugs one slim shoulder, wipes some sweat from his brow with the back of one arm.

 

“The unfortunate casualties of war, general.  Surely you don’t need me to teach you that particular lesson?”

 

She can feel her temper rising, blood pounding in her ears.

 

“You’re not sorry for committing genocide, yet you keep this entire planet safe?  Are the Preadeans that much better than the Hosnian races?”

 

" _That_ is a relationship of convenience.  So long as we help them, neither you nor that horror of a supreme leader can touch us.  As for the firing of what was my _life’s work_ , which your pilots utterly destroyed, _no_ . I’m not sorry.  I will never _be_ sorry.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

He turns to glare at her, letting go of his implements to brace hands on his knees.  His upper lips curls in contempt.

 

“What is it you want to hear, exactly, Organa?  Some sob story about how poor and mistreated and awful my childhood was?  Well, _boo hoo_ , you’re not getting one.  Nor a tearful confession of guilt and regret, either.  Welcome to the galaxy all of us that aren’t force-sensitive live in, where life does not fall into place because you twiddle your fingers and _will_ it to.”

 

He turns away from her, panting.  The chunk of rock he pulls from the bed is hurled away from him with great rage.  Then there is only silence, punctuated by distant laughter and the scraping of his garden tools.  

 

Leia contemplates, for a single moment, bashing the man’s head in with a stool.  Choking him with the force.  Something to give justice to so many dead. _Anything_.  She is a breath away from it, and damn any rules.  Manari is the only place that would censure her, anyway.

 

Then she hears Kylo’s voice, raised in anger, answered in kind by Luke. Something shatters, then silence.  Hux glances at the window, does not look away until the sound of calmer, if not kinder, discourse reach him.  Leia, on the other hand, watches him.

 

She watches those thin shoulders relax, the death grip he has on a small trowel release.  He goes from a coiled spring to calm gardener in moments.  She realizes something, something she never thought this man truly capable of.

 

“You love my son.”

 

Those bony shoulders twitch higher, almost to his ears.  He does not turn to look at her, but suddenly, ferociously, returns to work on the bed.  He pulls items from the dirt with a certain vindictiveness she can understand.

 

“I married him, didn’t I?” he snarls.

 

“So you did.”

 

Leia stands with a small smile on her face.  As she walks away, she feels as though she came out the victor here.

* * *

The evening finds them all back in the market at the center of town.  The children’s parents had collected their offspring sometime around noon, although not before they had introduced themselves to ‘the Solo family’.  Leia’s head spins from all the good she’d heard about Kylo and Hux before the latter can usher the Preadeans out the door.  Face red, he does not look at her, or at anyone, before he escapes back to the garden.

 

Now, he and Kylo walk hand in hand in front of them, winding in and out of the busy market.  Vendors and shoppers alike from different race all call out to them.  She watches them stop and talk to one vendor here, a pair of shoppers there.  Everyone who is local not only seems to know them, but to _want_ to talk to them.

 

The group has dispersed.  When the crowd breaks, she can see them from time to time.  Here, Finn and Rey play some sort of game.  There, Poe chatting up a Keshiri glassblower, whose husband is also looking at the pilot with interest. Leia is willing to bet Poe won’t be coming back until the morning.

 

Chewie is playing holo-chess with another wookie, and the crowd around them wants to get close to watch the game, but seems hesitant based on the loud roaring and grunting conversation the two are having.  Since the discussion is civil, Leia pays it no mind.

 

Only Luke stays by her side, unusually quiet, even for him, after his long fight with Kylo.  From what she gathered, there has been some closure between the two, although less than she has had.  Probably because Luke’s former padawans weigh heavy on his mind.  She can understand that.

 

There’s music in the air now, something bouncing and happy, with different stringed instruments.  At the center of the market is a square open section where couples of different races and genders were dancing some sort of reel.  There’s a loud whoop,  and then Kylo drags Hux out onto the floor, tossing him into the roiling mass of bodies and seizing someone else for his own partner.

 

Standing next to her brother, Leia watches her son whirl along through one song, then two, then three.  He’s laughing, face stretched wide in a smile.  The fourth song finds him partnered with Rey, but the music is too fast for either to protest before they must move or be trampled by the other pairs.  Leia can see he’s talking, fast.  Then they spin into the crowd, and she loses them.

 

The next song, Rey is with Finn.  She looks contemplative, rather than angry, although Finn looks ready to spit fire.  Kylo keeps his distance on the floor.

 

The sixth song is something slow and sweet, a sign the musicians are planning to take a break.  All across the dancing space, couples were turning for their romantic partners, leaving others to troop off the floor with the lonely stride of someone single.  Leia sees Kylo on the other side of the floor.  As the music plays, he draws Hux in close, presses their foreheads together.  

 

Clearly, there is no one in the galaxy right now for either of them but each other.  Kylo says something, nuzzles at red hair with his nose.  They’re barely moving.  More like swaying.

 

Hux winds his arms around the taller man’s neck, smiling so hard it looks like his face might split open.  Then they are kissing, and Leia should look away, but the emotion is so tender and heartfelt, she wants to witness this moment.  Hold it to her heart, and when things get bad again, take it out to remind herself that there is good out there.  That there is love.

 

And, oh, what a love her son has found.

 

“Come on.” she says, tugging at Luke’s sleeve, and they move away into the crowd, granting the two what little privacy such a mass allows.

* * *

Leia stands outside her ship, watching the crew load supplies onto it.  Poe is saying goodbye to the Keshiri couple, who seem loath to let him go.  

 

Too bad.  That’s her best pilot, and she doesn’t care how lovely their art is.  They can’t have him.

 

He tears himself away at last and, slapping Finn on the shoulder, bounds toward his ship to get it started.  Rey and Finn are next, extricating themselves from a small group of children.  They wave good bye and climb into the bowels of the main craft.  Chewie is already on board, sleeping off what was apparently heavy drinking from the night before.

 

Just she and Luke remain, looking back at Kylo and Hux, who are standing at the base of the ramp.  Kylo has one arm around Hux’s shoulders, and both look uncomfortable.  At last, Hux holds out a basket full of bits from his garden toward Luke.

 

“Cutting, “he explains, his face matching his hair, “ since you liked the garden.  Millicent would be displeased if you starved.”

 

Luke takes the gift with a bewildered smile.  He nods at Kylo, who nods back.

 

“The Force be with you both.” he says, which is a lot, considering who he is saying it to.  Then he turns without another word and disappears into the ship.  Leia is alone with her son and his husband.  They all stand there awkwardly for some time  before Kylo clears his throat.

 

“I..um...I-have a great trip.  Be...um…”

 

She walks forward and hugs him.

 

He startles, which is nice, because up until a second ago, she hadn’t planned on touching him at all.

 

He wraps his arms around her slowly, carefully, as if he doesn’t remember how this is done.  At last, he sort of tucks himself around her, and they hang on for a moment.  

 

There is so much they both want to say, so much between them.  

 

Leia feels tears prick her eyes, close her throat.

 

“I love you, Ben.  I may never quite forgive you, but I will always love you.”

 

There is a sob close to her ear that moves the chest beneath her cheek.  He squeezes tighter.

 

“I love you, mom.”

 

“I know.”

 

They release each other then, and step back.  There are tears on his face, in those dark eyes that he got from her.  He scrubs his eyes with the back of one hand and looks away.  She turns to Hux.

 

He sneers at her.

 

“I do _not_ do hugging.”

 

So she hugs him.  Partly because he is family now, as horrendous as that fact is.  But also because she knows it will irritate him.  He makes a frustrated noise against her shoulder and pats awkwardly at her back until she releases him.

 

He’s blushing again.

 

“May the Force be with you.” she says, throat still tight.  

 

“And with you.” Kylo responds.

 

Taking one last look at her son’s face, Leia turns and walks onto her ship.  She doesn’t look back until they’ve left Manari far behind.  

 

Luke joins her in her quarters later, touches a hand to her arm.

 

“Are you alright, Leia?”

 

She’d had a good long cry, and then she’d had a drink.  Then she’d found a little rock stuffed into one of her pockets and cried some more.  It was something Ben had once done as a child, some way to show affection in the way only a child could.  She looks down at the pebble in her hand now, and gives a watery smile.

 

“I will be.”

* * *

Far away across the galaxy, several First Order officers sit around a table with a holo-projection on it.

 

Being displayed is a very familiar planet.  

 

A young lieutenant is giving a debrief to the new general of the Finalizer, and Captain Phasma.

 

“Manari.  Resort planet for the last five or so years, war torn before that.  It’s certainly a possibility for the fugitives we’re looking for.  The timeline fits.”

 

General Pala snorts, waves a dismissive hand.  She will not waste the Supreme Leader’s resources on some backwater pleasure planet.

 

“Armitage Hux would never be caught dead on a _resort plane_ t.” she says, disgust in every syllable.  Captain Phasma nods.

 

“Neither for that matter would Kylo Ren, filthy traitors though they are.  Strike it from the list, Lieutenant, and let’s move on.”

 

Lieutenant Mitaka gives an internal sigh as he deletes Manari from the search list.  It had been worth a try.  He really needs a vacation.

 

Instead, he brings up the next planet on file.

 

“Gralth, in the Outer Regions, a known hub of smuggler activity…”

* * *

Come shriek at me on Tumblr: [Shifting-Iris](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shifting-iris)

 

 


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